


Standing Ground

by Luniana



Series: New York Pack [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Gen, M/M, Possibly Pre-Slash, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:51:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luniana/pseuds/Luniana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d gotten lazy.  After everything she’d taught him about covering his own trail to protect himself from his pursuers, he’d gotten lazy once he’d stepped close to the state where the most powerful Pack in North America held court.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Standing Ground

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first post to this fandom and AO3. Comments and feedback always appreciated. I cannot guarantee I'll continue, but I felt I should contribute to a community I have loved sitting on the outskirts of.

Run. Run towards the burnt glow of the city in the distance and pray for a quick death.

All he could hear was the pounding of his paws on the forest floor, the pounding of his heart in his ears and his own ragged breath. Darkened tree trunks, fallen logs and jagged stones leapt into view as he galloped flat out through the unknown terrain.

He’d never been this close before. Young years travelling with his father, and then with his brother, they’d avoided this place like the plague.

A howl started behind him, wicked and joyful, shortly joined by two others. They’d picked up his scent again. Cursing silently he tried to put on a burst of speed, ignoring his screaming muscles and the burning of the pads of his paws.

He’d gotten lazy. After everything she’d taught him about covering his own trail to protect himself from his pursuers, he’d gotten lazy once he’d stepped close to the state where the most powerful Pack in North America held court. “They kill strays like us.” His father’s alcohol-slurred voiced overlayed with his brother’s paranoid tones. He’d stupidly assumed his brother’s fear of the New York Pack was larger than his need to subjugate his little brother, his need to always be in control.

Natasha wouldn’t have lifted a paw to help him, he knew, even if she hadn’t disappeared a few months before. He’d brought this upon himself. Too many months without any sign that he was still being followed. Too many months relying on her and her connections to find them safe places to stay at night. He’d checked into a Motel Six in a nothing town on the outskirts of the state limits under an alias his own brother had chosen for him. He deserved this, he realized as he stumbled face first into a freezing stream and had to drag himself up the other side cold and wet. He deserved to be caught for his stupidity.

That didn’t mean he had to take it lying down thought. He didn’t know how long he’d been running, or how they’d kept up without seeming to tire, but he’d keep going, keep running, because he knew what awaited him under his brothers “protection” again. He’d lived that life too long. Natasha had shown him too much, taught him too much to ever be that scared lackey that Barney was looking for.

He heard them then, their panted breath on his heels and it startled him just enough that he missed the small escarpment he’d unknowingly climbed and fell down the other side, landing in an exhausted heap. He struggled to his feet, his legs protesting, but he heard their feral huffs of satisfaction, their wolfish laughter from above.

 _So this is it_ , he thought as he faced them. _This is the end._ He watched them pick their way down into the small clearing, his head low, teeth bared, facing them so to create the smallest target.

Barney came first, dirty chocolate fur, his body long and thin with muscles like sinew. The Clancy brothers came after, one at each of Barney’s shoulders, black on grey, only distinguishable by the few inches the older brother had on the younger.

He could feel the pleasure radiating off his brother. He’d eluded them a long time and Barney was looking forward to putting him back in line. What Barney didn’t know yet, was that he wasn’t going back. He had hoped his brother would have gotten the message when he kept eluding them, when he kept running. But maybe he’d been too subtle. Maybe it was time to put it right out there.

Barney wasn’t ready, was too busy silently gloating, when Clint lashed out with teeth and claws. He heard Barney’s surprised yelp, the startled skitter of the Clancy brothers getting out of the way as they clashed.

His advantage lasted mere seconds. He’d been running since sun up and somehow the three of them were remarkably fresh. Barney grappled with him, trying to get his throat, to pin him down while the Clancy’s nipped at his haunches and tried to bowl him over. Each time he fell he struggled harder to get up, rolled away from his brother’s jaws slower, but he wouldn’t stay down. He could feel Barney’s frustration in the strength of his paws, in the pressure of his teeth and jaws as he attempted to drag his little brother down. To force the submission he was being denied.

Clint knew he wouldn’t last much longer, smelling his own blood, his vision starting to blacken around the edges.

There was a quiet chuff from off to one side, like someone politely coughing to get their attention. Barney pulled away with a snarl, the Clancy brothers moving to his flanks protectively. Clint tried to stay on his feet, but when he whipped around to face the new opponents his hindquarters gave out and he stumbled roughly.

Three wolves stood just inside the clearing. The one who had gotten their attention stood in the lead position, his blue eyes taking in the scene with a calm, unaffected air. Flanking him was a heavier male and a lithe female, both of them had their heads lowered, obviously expecting a fight. Clint knew at once this was the Pack of New York and that the lead male had to be their enforcer, Coulson. Tales of his brutal efficiency were told as whispered boogie-man stories between the rare few strays he and his brother had ever allowed close.

Coulson’s eyes narrowing were the only warning Clint got before Barney had him by the scruff, trying to drag him away from the New York Pack. Clint let out a snarl and twisted, gathering any remaining strength he had to fight his brother off.

Clint heard, more than saw, Coulson’s seconds warn the Clancy brothers not to interfere with matching snarls. It took a long moment of snarls and snapping teeth to extricate himself from his brother’s jaws. He struggled to move away from his snarling brother and didn’t recognize where he was until he fell against Coulson’s front paws. Coulson seemed to watch Barney for a moment before turning his calm gaze downward. Clint didn’t hesitate. Once Coulson’s gaze was on him he closed his eyes and bared his throat.

There was a long moment of silence before he heard Coulson’s mouth open and felt teeth across his throat, just enough pressure to assure dominance, but not enough to break the skin. When Coulson released him he allowed himself to breathe again. As a stray who’d wandered into his territory he knew Coulson wouldn’t have been faulted for ripping his throat out.

When Clint opened his eyes again a fourth wolf stood at Coulson’s side, pitch black and tall. Fury, the Alpha, stood at his enforcer’s side and gave a low, threatening growl.

From where he lay Clint saw Barney shoot him one, last, disgusted look before he and the Clancy’s took off, scuttling back up the escarpment and away. Then at last the blackness at the edge of his vision closed in.

*

“The fuck was that?” Fury rumbled, straightening out his black turtleneck once he’d regained his human form.

“The Brothers Strays, sir.” Coulson stood beside him in a black suit and tie, white shirt crisp and unwrinkled from his transformation. “Barton’s and the Clancy’s.” He looked down at the youngest Barton who’d since passed out at his feet and reverted back to his human form. Barton’s t-shirt and jeans were a mess of blood and gashes. The worst wounds were his hands and feet, oozing with blood from where his paw pads had cracked and bled.

“Hill?” Coulson turned to the woman at his side, her face a stoic mask, not a brunette hair out of place. “Would you please return to the house and ask Doctor Banner if he’d meet us in the spare room with his kit?” Hill nodded once, shifted back into her wolf form and took off.

“Sitwell, make sure those little shits get off my land.” Fury nodded to the smaller bespectacled man at his side. Sitwell nodded, shifted and loped silently after the older Barton and the Clancy brothers.

“Just as she said.” Fury muttered, returning his attention to the younger Barton. “I hate it when she’s right.”

Coulson gave a ghost of a smile. “Does it help that we wanted her to be right?”

“Just don’t tell her that.” Fury snorted.


End file.
